Majesty is a girl who has been raised in upper class and silver spoon fed most of her life, a major name in New York, Majesty has become known for her keen since of fashion and major website LBM and ELBM (little black majesty, and extra little black...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
6: Migraines, Punching Bags, and Hopeless Engagements
I shouldn't have gotten so close to her, I should have stopped shit before I got so close, because I wouldn't have to be thinking about her in the ways that I should have. Especially when you haven't had sex in damn near three months, and when you had Majesty Jewels lips running through your mind like Usain Bolt.
I'm not the most religious man but hell I even had respect for Isabella, she was supposed to be everything right for me. She was going to be my escape from everything and could she really be my escape if I'm sitting up here thinking about the lips of another woman?
Not realizing I was letting all my aggravations out on the damn punching bag, I saw it's, contents spilling on to the floor in a steady flow, "Shit." I muttered to myself rubbing my head.
It had been two weeks and I hadn't seen or heard from her and it was best for me, I didn't need to do something that I was going to regret after, "Hey I was going to go out with the girls for-" Stopping in what she was saying Isabella saw the contents of the bag, "You ok Emilio?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'll see you when you get back." I nodded brushing past her. Walking up the stairs to what you could call a basement, I walked upstairs to our room and pushed the door open, I grabbed a pair of running shoes. Putting them on I laced them up, leaving our room again I took the stairs two at a time and was out the door.
Walking down the driveway I stretched for a few minutes, I had been doing this a lot lately running, running because hopefully I would run far enough to go back to Colombia, or far enough to run off my sexual and anger frustrations. It's what happens when you have a model in your home and you don't get to have sex with her, you do get to watch her strut around in lingerie and in a towel, that holds nothing, but her birthday suit.
Dios mios.
I ran until I didn't even know where I was at but they both were still on my mind, especially the chocolate girl that I taught how to throw a simple jab, it was wrong that I liked the way my hands felt on her hips, she wasn't my type hell Isabella wasn't my type but at least she wasn't known, the girl that is making me rethink every move I made was probably the most searched about woman in New York, it was crazy what a thing called Google could do.
This girl was everything I didn't need, she was wild and out there hell everything I read about the girl said she had to be the most talked about girl in New York, I was never the type to believe what others had to say about you, but it wasn't like it wasn't true. I hate press, I hate being around people I could give a damn about, I didn't like crowds, I would rather stay in then go to a movie premiere, to say the least I was a private person so why in the hell did I find myself becoming attracted to women who weren't.
